


Sweet December

by Duckgomery



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, M/M, Pitch is secretly a sweetie, nothing spectacular au, slight college au, very slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was pretty mundane for one Jack Frost. Things changed at a bus stop, for better and for worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet December

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that is unbeta-ed seeing as I wanted to chuck it up asap. It may have been written in the very early hours of the morning so quality is possibly a thing that this fic lacks. None the less, I had an ending I wanted to get to, so we have ourselves some terrible filler until that point is reached.  
> Enjoy.

Jack’s first memory of the man was nothing that spectacular.

It was a day like any other really. With his bag weighing heavy on his back, the boy trudged up to the dilapidated hovel that was the bus shelter and waited for the vehicle that took pleasure in its spontaneity.

It just so happened to be the day that a Mister Pitchner Black had been having issues with his car and had to graciously opt to brave the public transport system.

The older man was a simple shadow, toeing at the edge of his periphery, and to the edge of the scene he would have remained if Jack’s gracefulness possessed him at all times like his peers tended to believe.

As the crowd surged towards the welcoming gateway into the shuttle, Jack found himself powerless. Being pressed this way and that could only keep him afloat for so long, the cold, damp ground soon meeting up with and jeering at the now horizontal boy.

A hand was extended down towards him, and Jack, at the point where nothing could get any more worse, accepted it silently.

The thin hand struggled to pull him up, and here Jack was. Face to chest with one of the most sickly men he’d ever had the misfortune of seeing.

The man’s hand slip out of Jack’s grip, a smile shot in his direction, before he glided up the buses steps.

Jack followed, as quickly as he could without seeming overly enthusiastic or curious.

The man was tucked away at the back of the bus and Jack was forced to stand.

…

The second encounter went very similar to their first. Simply two people passing one another as they went about their days.

Jack, hair now stylishly dishevelled and donned in the required uniform apron, picked up the freshly brewed cup of coffee, and getting instructions on who to deliver it to, recognised the thin, pasty face. After a moment’s hesitation, caused by the combination of placing the face and contemplating on whether or not to go through with his silent thanks.

Steadying his resolve, he moved behind the counter to pick out a cake. Then and only then, did he head over to the table with the solitary occupant, who was currently nose deep in a worn and faded paperback.

“Here you go, sir.” And as fast as he arrived, he turned and fled.

Jack barely heard the quiet thanks passed his way over the beating of his heart.

…

The next encounter with the strange, sickly man was unprecedented to both parties involved.

“Today I present to you a guest lecturer. He’s an old student of mine and I believe he has some words of wisdom and experience that you all could benefit from, isn’t that right, Pitch?” The lecturer steps back, smiling to the man who steps out of the dark and into the spotlight.

Jack’s eyes widen in recognition, hitting him so much faster than when the man appeared at his workplace.

Pitch smiled and thanked the lecturer, before launching into his speech.

As much as Jack wanted to pay attention to the content being handed to him, his thoughts couldn’t help but stray.

His slender hands, twisting and moving, never still. Lips, curling and quirking this may and that with his words, which flowed out sweet and smooth and full of life and passion that Jack had yet to see come from this once passer buyer in his life.

The more he spoke and got swept up in the topic, the more life seemed to fill the stick of man. Grey skin taking a more healthy tone.

The class ended far too soon for Jack’s liking.

While the rest of the class vacated the room as fast as possible, Jack took the time to look over the ‘notes’ he had managed to scrawl out. Passionate eyes and hooked noses littered the page.

“Well it looks like serendipity had brought us together once more.”

Pitch slid next to Jack, notebook hastily slamming in the process.

“Weird, ha?”

Jack was rewarded with a chuckle.

“I’d like to extend my thanks for the other day. You didn’t have to.”

Side by side they strode out of the room and into the hallway.

“It was the least I could do, you get me?”

Weaving through the winding labyrinth of hallways, Jack wished he could stay as close to this man as he was now.

…

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favourite customer. Black, four sugars, and the choc mud cake?”

Jack and Pitch shared a smile at a joke only they ever really got.

Pitch had become a regular, at both work and campus for Jack.

Their time was spent between complaints, school work, actual work, and topics bordering absurd and obscure.

“I’m telling you, Ice powers would be the shit. You can use that stuff anywhere.”

Jack sought help from Pitch with his studies, and Pitch often found himself using Jack as a sounding board for his own ideas.

“I’d like you to find a better way of wording that analogy to give the effect I desire. And if you’re not going to even try with that essay, I’m not going to help you tidy it up later.”

Eventually, they migrated to more private settings for their little meet-ups.

…

When Pitch gave Jack the tour of his flat, Jack was impressed to say the least.

For someone who appeared to simply skulk around and do more or less nothing, it was a decent place. At the boy’s whistle of appreciation, Pitch allowed himself a smile.

The night was spent with feet kicked up on a coffee table, crowded with take-away Chinese food containers, bumping shoulders, and entwined fingers.

…

“What’s up with all the pill popping? You aren’t a king pin in a drug syndicate or anything, because that would actually explain this sweet ass pad.”

Pitch scowled as he finished swallowing the last of his plethora of pills.

“In case you haven’t picked up, my dear, I’m a man who spends too much time hunched over a desk, with poorly scheduled meal and sleep breaks to break up the monotony. Due to this lifestyle, I have the immune system of the degenerate.”

Jack slides his arms around the taller man’s waist. When the gesture is reciprocated, he knows all is forgiven.

“I’m going to have to fix that, aren’t I?”

…

“Why are we out here?”

                Jack clambers back down the fire escape, returning with arms full.

                “We’re broadening your horizons, you dig?”

                The blanket is spread across the rough slabs of the open roof.

                “I still don’t see how this is helping.”

                Jack pulls him down, pinning Pitch’s chest down with a calculated slung arm.

                “Look up, it’s not as clear as it is out in the country, but it’s still something.”

                Pitch ceases his complaints as the glimmering blanket of night shines down from overhead.

…

                “Are you going to come to my graduation?”

                “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

…

                “So my mum’s invited us over for Christmas.”

                The look on Pitch’s face was worth mentioning his older man to his mother Jack decided.

…

“Congratulations on getting the job.”

The wine was cracked open and poured with great gusto throughout the evening.

“Couldn’t have landed it without you, babe.”

Pitch buries his face in his palm while Jack glows with mirth.

…

“I can’t believe you’ve never skated before?”

Jack calls back to Pitch, who’s trailing further and behind along the snow covered path.

                “I apologise for having the common sense to know a bad idea when I see it.”

                The usual tone that accompanies their banter is absent, having been overshadowed by the man’s anxious energy.

                “Boo hoo, mean, old Pitch is afraid of falling over and getting his clothes wet.”

                Skipping back over to the pouting man, Jack gave him a quick peck to the side of his lips.

                “Come on, I’m a pro. I’ll have you skating like a champ in no time.”

                “Why does this not reassure me in the slightest?”

                Skates on his feet, Jack moved across the ice with speed and grace that was almost unnatural. Pitch watched in awe as Jack became nothing more than a blur, the only indication of his presence being the elegantly whirl of lines being etched across the surface of the ice in his wake.

                “See, easy. Now get your bony behind over here.” Jack stopped, hand outstretched. It was almost reminiscent of their first encounter, an unspoken trust being presented to an apprehensive party.

                Pitch wobbled on over, feet having yet to assimilate to the sensation of moving on the thin blades.

                As the distance between the two closed, an ominous crack shattered the atmosphere.

                Two sets of eyes widened in realisation.

                One set hardened with resolve.

                Jack reached for a branch that had made it out onto the surface of the frozen lake, slowly widening his stance to accommodate the added weight.

                “I’m going to get you out of here, you got me?”

                Pitch nodded slowly, shock having drained any of the previous colours that Jack had managed to work back into the gaunt features.

                The ice beneath the older man’s feet creaked and cracks began to sider out further.

                “I need you to stay steady, and grab the branch on three.”

                “One,”

                Pitch’s breaths began to come out in panicked pants, breath causing a steady stream of mist to puff out of his mouth.

                “Two,”

                The branch in Jack’s hands began its journey over to Pitch, moving slow and steady.

                “Three,”

                Hands darted out, and Pitch found himself sliding to the other side of the lake, closer and closer to the snow banks surrounding it.

                With a laugh, the tension rolled off him from the previous terrifying experience and he turned back to look at Jack.

                Jack allowed himself to relaxed, having seen Pitch out of danger. Allowing him a moment to relax, he braced himself against the branch.

                “See, told you everything was going to be al-“

                The ice gave way beneath Jack with a final heart retching crumbling.

                Eyes briefly locked before Jack’s vision was filled with cold.

                Cold eventually gave way to dark.

                And dark to nothing.


End file.
